There is one thing, however, before which the picket is impotent--a pass. It is like a free pardon to a convict; it opens to him the whole world--that is for the period it covers. The two most difficult things in military life are to obtain permit of absence from billets, and the struggle against the natural impulse to overstay the limit of leave. There are times when soldiers experience an intense longing to see their own homes, firesides, and friends, and in moments like these it takes a stiff fight to overcome the desire to go away, if only for a little while, to their native haunts. Only once in five weeks may a man obtain a week-end pass--if he is lucky. To the soldier, luck is merely another word for skill. With us, the rifleman who scores six successive "bulls" at six hundred yards on the open range has been lucky; if he speaks nicely to the quartermaster and obtains the best pair of boots in the stores, he has been lucky; if by mistake he is given double rations by the fatigue party he is lucky; but if the same man, sweating over his rifle in a carnival of "wash-outs," or, weary of blistered feet and empty stomach, asks for sympathy because his rifle was sighted too low or because he lost his dinner while waiting on boot-parade, we explain that his woes are due to a caper of chance--that he has been unlucky. To obtain a pass at any time a man must be lucky; obtaining one when he desires it most is a thing heard of now and again, and getting a pass and not being able to use it is of common occurrence. Now, when I applied for special leave I was more than a little lucky. It was necessary that I should attend to business in London, and I set about making application for a permit of leave. I intended to apply for a pass dating from 6 p.m. of a Friday evening to 10 p.m. of the following Sunday. On Wednesday morning I spoke to a corporal of my company. "If you want leave, see the platoon sergeant," he told me. The platoon sergeant, who was in a bad temper, spoke harshly when I approached him. "No business of mine!" he said; "the company clerk will look into the matter." But I had no success with the company clerk; the leave which I desired was a special one, and that did not come under his jurisdiction. "The orderly sergeant knows more about this business than I do. Go to him about it," he said. By Wednesday evening I spoke to the orderly sergeant, who looked puzzled for a moment. "Come with me to the lieutenant," he said. "He'll know more about this matter than I do, and he'll see into it. But it will be difficult to get special leave, you know; they don't like to give it." "Why?" I asked. "Why?" he repeated; "what the devil does it matter to you? You're paid here to do what you're told, not to ask questions." The lieutenant was courteous and civil. "I can't do anything in the matter," he said. "The orderly sergeant will take you to the company officer, Captain ----, and he'll maybe do something for you."